


Joyce Price and the Empty Christmas

by AntiChri5



Series: The Neverending Sleepover [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, Death, F/M, Family, Grief/Mourning, Joyce needs a fucking break, Loss, Love, Presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 09:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17404553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntiChri5/pseuds/AntiChri5
Summary: Day after day, she manages to put herself together to go into work. But on Christmas, it is impossible to hide from the way her family has been shattered. And the emptiness in her life.While Chloe and Max find comfort in each other, who is there for Joyce?





	Joyce Price and the Empty Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first side story of The Neverending Sleepover. This is set between chapters 5 and 6 of Max Caulfield and the Neverending Sleepover. It may be best to read that first, but this can be read on it's own. The only real change to canon you need to be made aware of is that Max is temporarily staying with the Price family after Williams death while her parents find a new house in Seattle.
> 
> This story represents an often overlooked but, in my opinion, critical issue: Joyce's pain after having lost her husband. She may have, in my opinion, failed Chloe as a mother, but the circumstances of why are important.
> 
> Why yes, this WAS supposed to be ready for Christmas. Sorry. I kinda suck that way.

**Three and a half months since the death of William Price**

 

It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was sobbing, except for Joyce Price.

She lay on her side in the bed that had become too big, staring at the empty space beside her. Holding it together day-to-day was one thing, but Christmas had always been a time for family to Joyce. At this time of night, William should be grinning from ear to ear in the lamp light as he waited to foil Chloe’s next attempt at sneaking down to her presents, or pulling out a well-hidden Santa costume purely to confuse their cynical daughter. Or at the very least trying to get Chloe off the phone to Max.

But instead the house was dark and silent, her sobbing the only thing disturbing the peace of the empty room. Chloe was too dispirited to be interested in her usual antics, and she knew better than to expect much in the way of presents this year. So Joyce simply lay in the dark.

Her husband’s death was impossible to deny, to escape from or even to avoid thinking about.

How could an impromptu grocery run so completely shatter her life?

How could she have ever prepared for _this_?

How could she look Chloe in the eye, knowing how much her daughter was hurting and being so utterly helpless to do anything about it?

How could every house on the street be lit up with Christmas cheer when the world had never been darker?

On her first Christmas as a widow, Joyce Price lay in her empty bed and wept.

 

* * *

 

The bathroom door squeaked as Joyce shuffled in and she couldn’t help but wince. Max and Chloe had done their best to fix it after whatever antics had ended with the removal of the bathroom door, but it was hardly perfect. Joyce hadn’t been able to hold onto her anger over that when she saw the life that had come back into her daughters eyes. Whatever nonsense it had been, it had _worked_.

Disrobing, she stepped into the shower and sighed as she looked down at her body. It was terrifying, the difference a decade could make. It was a wonder William was still….

It had been a wonder William had still been attracted to her.

Joyce showered in silence, not making a sound.

* * *

 

The plastic tree in the living room, veteran of countless Christmas’ looked _off_. The pile of presents underneath it was noticeably smaller and the ornament on top conspicuously absent. Joyce hadn’t been able to reach.

She didn’t notice how long she spent, simply standing there staring at the tree, until she heard steps coming down the stairs. Dull, heavy thumps. As if each foot were a lead weight that had been picked up at great effort. So different from her usual enthusiastic bounding. The reserved shuffling following immediately in her wake, even her footsteps hiding behind her bolder friend, had not changed in the slightest at least.

Chloe and Max, together as always.

Joyce took a deep breath, struggling to process her heart clenching even as it soared.

Chloe stomped around the corner, and her eyes did the same scan it had every day since the tree had gone up. The same Joyce’s had, from the lacklustre present pile to the missing star. Unlike every other day, though, the frown stayed on her face instead of melting back into a blank emptiness.

Maybe this had been a mistake. Putting everything together as close to normal as possible just made what was different, the absence neither of them could cope with, all the more obvious.

Max hovered behind her friend, a now familiar expression creeping across her face. An anxious need to help, burning at her with the complete lack of a way to do so. Something Joyce could certainly sympathise with.

Slowly, cautious as a baby bird taking flight, Max slipped her hand into Chloe’s.

Well, that was a change. If only a small one. Broken from her reverie by her friend, Chloe looked at Max before dashing off up the stairs in an explosion of unexpected energy. Naturally, she forgot to release her friends hand first and it fell to Max to either find a way to keep up or lose her hand.

That was familiar too, even if she hadn’t seen it in months. A small weight somehow lifted, Joyce went into the kitchen. There was a lot to do. It was pleasant, in it’s own way. She simply lost herself in preparing the same feast she did every year, a Christmas “dinner” everyone skipped breakfast for and wound up starting shortly after lunch time. It still took until well after the normal dinner time to complete.

She was just getting started on the pie when she was broken out of her groove by a loud _thunk_ from the living room, like furniture being knocked over. Or falling on a child.

Breathlessly, she rushed back into the living room, hoping to find her fears disproven. They got half way there, then had to rush back in full force.

The couch had been dragged over to the tree and, balanced precariously on the arm, was Chloe. She reached up and leaned forward, Max holding her waist to keep her balanced, as she put the star where it belonged on the top of the tree.

That’s where Chloe had been headed. Up to the attic, where the ornament had been left in storage.

Placing the ornament, Chloe leaned back with a triumphant smile. A bit too quickly, as she lost her balance and began frantically windmilling her arms. Max braced Chloe as well as she could, face going even paler, but overcompensated. Luckily, it was in the direction of the couch and both girls fell onto the soft cushions in an avalanche of giggles.

They lay there, tangled together, and kept giggling until they noticed Joyce glaring down at them.

Then they giggled louder.

It might have been the way the corners of Joyce’s mouth kept turning up, no matter how hard she tried to glare.

She really _shouldn’t_ encourage that kind of behaviour, but……well it _was_ Christmas. And it had been so long since she had heard those giggles and had to wonder what mischief was afoot.

She smiled down at her daughters, the one she carried and the one _that_ one had brought home and made part of the family. Then she turned to the tree, eyes going up to the star sitting in it’s rightful place. It was a real wonder Chloe was able to reach it, even on furniture. When had she gotten so _tall_?

Regardless, it was there, and the world was that little bit less wrong. Joyce nodded in approval.

“Well girls, I guess that means it’s time for presents.”

Four eyes looked up at her with the mindless greed that was every child’s Christmas birthright.

 

* * *

 

Chloe’s present to Joyce was first. She insisted on it, eyes downcast as if it was something she wanted to get out of the way as quickly as possible rather than have to follow up after _other_ presents.

Joyce kept the smile on her face as she unwrapped the box of chocolates, trying to encourage Chloe.

“We…..we made stuff, at School, but it was months ago so it was for both……it had writing on it and…..”

Chloe’s defensive mumble trailed off.

Joyce put aside her chocolates, pulled her daughter in close, and kissed her on the forehead.

“Thank you, Chloe. We can always use a bit more sweetness.”

Chloe smiled, looking away.

Max was up next, holding out a wrapped bundle that turned out to be a scarf. And one far too stylish to have been chosen by anyone other than Vanessa Caulfield. Joyce smiled as she put her new scarf on.

“Thank you _very_ much dear. This is absolutely lovely.”

Max smiled back nervously. One day, she would be able to trust her own taste as much as she did her mothers. Joyce couldn’t wait to see what the girl would be picking out herself then.

Max’s gift to Chloe came next, and it went over well even if Joyce seemed to be excluded from the joke. Chloe giggled and guffawed over the set of markers for almost five minutes, and as ever Max was quick to join her.

That meant the…..light hearted presents were all given out.

Joyce picked up a wrapped box and looked to Chloe, who nodded her confirmation.

It was time.

“Max, honey, Chloe and I talked it over and, with all you have done and how much it means to have you here…..well, there was only one gift that would do.”

She held the box out and the nervous girl looked from Joyce to Chloe, who had either started nodding again or simply never stopped.

She unwrapped it nervously and, as the packaging came away her mouth fell open as she gazed down at the treasure in her shaking hands.

“G-guys…..I can’t accept this! N-no way…..”

Max couldn’t seem to keep the awe out of her voice as she stared down at Willian’s beloved camera.

“This should stay in the family,” she finished softly.

“It _is_!” Chloe’s tone was belligerent, almost angry, her impulse to fight anyone who would dare suggest Max wasn’t a part of the family so instinctive it kicked in before she even registered who had actually said it.

“Dad would totally want you to have it, Max.” Chloe finished in a more moderated tone.

Joyce nodded. “And you are _absolutely_ part of the family, Max Caulfield. I won’t hear anyone say otherwise.”

Max blushed fiercely, thanks stumbling out of a mouth stretched into such a broad grin it was no wonder she could barely talk. The gratitude in the look Chloe sent Joyce at her addition was just as intense.

Joyce took a deep breath, enjoying the moment before she ended it.

_Please, let this work. Let this not be a mistake._

She reached for the gift she had prepared for Chloe, handing it over with an uncharacteristic timidness.

Unnerved, Chloe tore through the packaging with singular focus before gazing down at her own present.

She looked up at her mother, question not even needing to be asked, and Joyce nodded.

Looking back down, Chloe opened the photo album with a similarly uncharacteristic uncertainty.

She just stared down, not even flipping through. Just taking in the face smiling lovingly back up at her. Many of the pictures included Chloe, plenty Joyce as well and some even had Max, but all of them had him. Some of the pictures had been pulled from other albums where they had taken another, far more painful meaning. Many were cast offs found in old stacks of photos in the back of drawers, having been judged not worthy of being included in an album until loss had made them so much more valuable.

All of the pictures were of William, in one situation or another, with others or alone, the father and husband who had been an unquestionably permanent part of their lives until so very recently preserved a hundred times over in miniature.

Chloe pulled the album to her chest, hugging it with a desperate need that broke Joyce’s heart. Luckily, Max knew exactly what to do. Her own invaluable gift was set aside without hesitation as she enfolded Chloe in a hug. A moment later, Joyce did the same.

A very long moment later, Chloe managed to prize her arms off the album long enough to wrap them around her mother and best friend, heavy album trapped in the middle. A group hug in which one of the participants had been lost for months.

On a later day, Joyce would go through the album with Chloe. Explaining the story behind this picture, the day that one had been taken. Only half of them were new to Chloe, but she would listen to all with the same rapt attention. On a later day. That Christmas, they simply held each other.

* * *

 

At least, until the food demanded Joyce’s attention.

She went back to work in the kitchen, heart so much lighter, only to be interrupted a few minutes into her work.

Chloe stood at the entrance to the kitchen, tears scrubbed away but eyes still somewhat puffy.

“Hey, mum……”

“Yes dear?”

“I was wondering if…….well, if I could help?”

Joyce blinked. Chloe _volunteering?_

It wasn’t that she was lazy. She did her chores, mostly. She just tended to get so passionately wrapped up in what she was up to that she needed the occasional very regular reminder. Her volunteering was almost unheard of.

Chloe fidgeted awkwardly before her mothers questioning gaze.

“Watching Max do all the housework she has….well, it kinda drive home I should be helping more. Especially with…..” She trailed off, unwilling to finish her sentence. “Well, you can use the help and Max is busy with her new boyfriend,” she shrugged with faux casualness.

Confused, Joyce peeked out into the living room.

Max was laying back on the couch, turning her new camera this way and that. Peering through the viewfinder and pretending to take pictures, occasionally just stroking one part or another of it.

Yes, new boyfriend indeed. It was, at the very least, much easier to deal with than an actual boy. The day Max and Chloe developed a more then passing interest in _those_ would be disastrous. Hopefully it could be put off for a few more years.

Joyce returned to the kitchen, sharing an amused look with Chloe.

“Plus,” her daughter said “I wanna, y’know…..do stuff with you. We haven’t…….we haven’t been doing a lot together lately.”

Joyce smiled at this new gift in a way she never could for mediocre chocolates, no matter how well intentioned.

“Sure, Chloe, I would _love_ for you to help.”

Christmas dinner that night wasn’t perfect. Some things were overcooked. Some things undercooked. And some simply very slightly wrong. The gift giving had taken longer then it should have, throwing her schedule into disarray, and Chloe’s assistance was as much hindrance as help, there was so much she needed to learn. Of course, Joyce had had her do much more then she probably should have with someone so new, but it was simply such a relief to be working with her that Joyce couldn’t resist including her as much as possible. She had a feeling Max wouldn’t mind.

There were certainly no complaints. The food was devoured almost as quickly as it had been with William present. It hurt to look to his chair and see Max there instead, but not _nearly_ as much as it would have had that chair been empty.

Plus, in an odd way, watching people enjoy food Chloe had made half as much as they would have if it were Joyce’s practiced recipes still made her twice as proud as she would have been.

The overfed girls shambled off to the couch to watch TV, which inevitably turned into an unplanned nap. Joyce smiled. Chloe had really stepped up this year. Decorating the tree, her wonderful idea for Max’s present, helping with the food. Joyce couldn’t remember ever being so proud.

She turned to tell William.


End file.
